


worlds apart (i fell right into you)

by celestialfics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Lazy Mornings, M/M, Post-Canon, ThorBruce Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialfics/pseuds/celestialfics
Summary: Bruce finds a certain comfort in familiarity.





	worlds apart (i fell right into you)

**Author's Note:**

> for thorbruce week day 4, touch!
> 
> this takes place after whatever happens in avengers4. if all goes wrong, throw canon to the curb. hope you enjoy!

It’s a simple thing, really. Bruce finds a certain comfort in familiarity; familiar like all the intricacies of biochemistry, familiar like his purple button up, familiar like sleeping in his own bed. Familiar like Thor.

After his two years stuck in the trunk of a car haphazardly driven by the other guy in space, Thor being there when he came back to himself was beyond a breath of fresh air. For the most part, Thor’s been the only stable part in Bruce’s life for a long time. (Since Sakaar, for sure, but maybe it started before that and Bruce never noticed.)

So, Bruce's gravitation to him is natural. On Sakaar, Bruce had almost become accustomed to Thor's hand on his shoulder or vice versa. It had been a form of grounding, then, he knows, but grounding is definitely still what he needs.

Nothing is quite the same after all is said and done. Thanos irreversibly damaged the universe, even if in his defeat the Avengers had managed to undo the snap. Still, something lingers in the air, even months later.

It’s unnerving, even if everything is essentially  _fine_ now. And, well, it’s why Bruce needs grounding, anyway. If he thinks for too long, he’s sure he’ll float away from himself, from everything.

He stares at the ceiling now, which is illuminated in soft strips by morning light that seeps in through gaps in the curtains. His hands sit clasped on his chest as it rises and falls slowly. He wonders—what if he hadn’t been so lucky? What if Thor had never landed on Sakaar? What if Heimdall hadn’t risked himself to whisk the Hulk back to Earth? What if Bruce had vanished along with the others when Thanos snapped? A slight change of circumstance, and it could have all been different. That goes with most events in Bruce’s life, actually. It freaks him out a little. (Or, a lot.)

Then—“Bruce?”

Thor’s voice is always a welcome intrusion to Bruce’s thoughts. Bruce turns his head to look at Thor, who lies on his stomach, half his face squished against a pillow. He lazily blinks away sleep, his arms sprawled on either side of him, his left just pressing to Bruce’s shoulder.

“Yes?” Bruce prompts, rolling on his side to face Thor. He’s a sight for sore eyes like this, blankets bunched around his bare torso and golden light caressing the dips and hills of the muscles in his back.

“How long have you been awake?” Thor asks, voice still gravelly with sleep.

Bruce’s eyes flicker to the clock that sits on the nightstand past Thor. It reads just past six in the morning. Bruce blinks at it, and then lies, “Only a little while.”

Thor narrows his eyes at him, incredulous. His long eyelashes almost mask his eyes completely.

“You’re thinking too much. I can feel it.” Thor buries his face into his pillow for a moment and rolls his bare shoulders before flipping himself over onto his back. “So knock it off. Let yourself rest. It’s Sunday.”

At this, Bruce lets out an amused huff. “I wish it were that easy,” he responds, and Thor’s mouth pulls into a slight frown. His hand that had been pressed to Bruce’s shoulder moves to take Bruce’s hand. He entwines their fingers and then takes their hands to lie them on his chest. Bruce can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. Thor’s eyes fall closed again, but he brings his opposite hand to lie on top of the two on his chest.

Thor isn’t the greatest at words in situations like these. Bruce doesn’t mind, because he isn’t, either. Thor’s simple gesture means a lot more to Bruce than words could really say, anyway. He focuses on Thor’s heartbeat and revels in the heat that radiates off of Thor’s body, letting himself be encapsulated in Thor’s presence rather than tortured by his tendency to overthink.

Though Thor falls back asleep quickly, his breathing elongating and eyelids twitching every so often as he dreams, sleep doesn’t come so easily to Bruce. This time, he doesn’t mind. It comes so naturally to Bruce to close the slight gap between himself and Thor, and he feels the tension slip off of himself in waves.

He wills himself to think about happier things, because after all, he  _has_ been this lucky to end up right here, right now. His thoughts fade into nothing before he’s aware of it, and he drifts back to sleep.

—

When Bruce blinks back awake, it’s to Thor humming a song Bruce doesn’t recognize, deep and soft. In his sleep, Bruce had buried his face into the crook of Thor’s neck, so now he can feel the low rumble from Thor’s humming.

“Good morning,” Bruce mumbles against Thor’s skin, before he pulls slightly away and stretches out his back and shoulders.

He notices that Thor’s been reading while Bruce slept—it’s a book Thor has kept on the nightstand for a few days now, reading it before going to bed, or, as Bruce now sees, in the morning. Thor has told Bruce a little about the plot; it’s some murder mystery romance that Bruce wouldn’t expect Thor to be interested in, but he’s always been a bit full of surprises.

Thor looks over to Bruce and smiles, “Good morning, Bruce.” He slips a bookmark back into the book and shuts it before sliding it back onto the nightstand. “I didn’t want to disturb your slumber, so I figured I could read to stay still for you.”

Bruce’s eyelashes dust the top of his cheeks as he chuckles fondly at Thor’s words. He flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling for a moment before he says, “I love you.”

Thor looks down at Bruce, heterochromatic eyes trained on him with a certain curiosity, like the words caught him by surprise. “I love you, too, of course,” he responds, propping himself up on his elbow, facing Bruce. “Though I’m confused as to what brought this on.”

“Mmm,” Bruce hums lowly, “I just felt like telling you. Because I do.”

“That’s very nice of you.” Thor grins, so bright and beautiful that it’s almost blinding for Bruce’s still sleepy eyes. Still, Bruce smiles back.

“It’s not nice,” he replies, lifting a hand to set it on Thor’s shoulder. “It’s just true.”

Thor laughs and ducks his head down to catch Bruce’s lips with his own, chaste but lingering. “Nice  _and_ true,” he offers once he pulls back about an inch.

“Whatever you say, big guy,” Bruce responds, craning his neck up to kiss Thor again. Thor meets him easily, large hand coming up to cradle the back of Bruce’s head.

It’s a simple thing, really. Bruce finds a certain comfort in familiarity, and nothing is more familiar to him than Thor’s touch.  

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/liquidsaints) & [tumblr](http://liquidsaints.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


End file.
